Classic Poem

Up, sun and mery wether!
Sumer draweth nere.

Somtime I loved—so do I yit—
In stedfast wise and not to flit;
But in dangèr my love was knit,
A pitous thing to here.

For when I offred my servìse,
I to obey in humble wise
As ferforth as I coude devise,
In contenaunce and chere,

Grete paine for nought I dide endure,
Al for that wicked creätùre;
He and no mo, I you ensure,
Overthrew al my matère.

But now—I thanke God of His sand—
I am ascaped from his band
And free to pas by see and land,
And sure fro yere to yere.

Now may I ete, drinke, and play,
Walke up and down fro day to day,
And herken what these lovers say,
And laugh at their manère.

When I shal slepe, I have good rest—
Somtime I had not altherbest—
But, ar that I cam to this fest,
I bought it al to dere.

Al that affray is clene a-go;
Not only that, but many mo;
And sith I am ascaped so,
I thinke to hold me here.

But al the crue that suffren smert,
I wold they sped like youre desert,
That they might sing with mery hert
This song with us in fere.